Tears of Scarlet
by Nic01224
Summary: A story on Vicious's thoughts upon his situation, Julia and Spike and his adenventures thereafter! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Tears of Crimson

**Authors Note: **I recommend you tube, Cowboy Bebop Memory and play as you read about Vicious's thoughts...see you out there, someday, somewhere!

Vicious gripped the sheath of the blade...gripped it tight, tighter as though he wished to snap his beloved Katana in half. The pale, shell of man who's heart was a fiery inferno of anger that only one woman and one man had ever quenched. Quenched, the only two people who had ever made his bloodlust and anger manageable, they were gone. All that was left was this, a burning anger that left his soul a parched and his life empty. All he could do was murder; he had no other purpose in life and without the aforementioned people, sought no other purpose. The Red Dragon Syndicate was Vicious's life, to kill was his purpose and he could not die until He came home. Vicious was a dead man, he died when his friends left him. He had died inside, yet he had lived on-dreams and nightmares haunted him always, he was kept awake by them, literally them. Spike's gun fire, Julia perfume and smile...it was all so real and full, yet he always died in the dreams and came back to the dream world, where Spike and Julia were gone...and all that was left was this half life...

_Julia..._

The first time he'd met her, they'd worked together-she had lured the target, he had eliminated him. That night, at the hotel, he had taken her. He hadn't asked, he'd just removed her clothes, with a little force and taken her. Julia hadn't resisted or assisted him, she simply allowed Vicious his savage passion after the kill. When Julia orgasmed, it was nearly silent. In the morning he rose wordlessly, she awoke to him staring at her naked body under the sheets. When she sat up her blonde hair cascaded over her breasts. She had smiled sadly, and dressed and they had left. It had gone on for sometime like that, sometimes Julia did encourage his savagery and enjoyed herself. Most of the time, it was just Vicious's loveless sex, Julia's joyless orgasm and so much missing that could of been...day after day, mission after mission. If someone asked Vicious did he care for her...the answer was no. Yet he needed her all the same, because without her he could not fulfil desire or feel whole, no other women could make him feel like he did, having sex after the kill.

_Spike..._

The first time they'd met was in battle, a sparing match. It was there and then that He and Spike had decided that only they could, were allowed by universal law, to kill each other. They had cut down armies of men, hundreds over their careers either by the sword, gun or fist. It mattered not, together they were unstoppable and grew both famous and for their rank considerably wealthy. The two warriors, best friends, inspired fear and awe wherever they went, yet their friendship was a complex one. More than simple emotion, they were kindred spirits and for a time life for Vicious had never been better. Spike had been wounded, Vicious had cared enough to take Spike to Julia...he started it all. The first time in life he _cared _for another, had led ultimately to his undoing. Despite the fact they were so close to becoming Elders of the Syndicate, despite the promises of honour, wealth and glory Spike had abandoned him. All theirs plans, ruined because of what Spike and Julia called _love_. Then he was left alone, he barely ate or slept. He had...still considered Spike a brother, yet he was consumed by icy, bitter hate. Spike betrayed him. Spike took Julia. Spike threw me to the dogs, when we we're about to take over...the Elder's had known...

_The Elders (The Corpses)_

After Spike and Julia had left, they'd watched him constantly-sent spies to "assist" Vicious, when they and He knew he needed none. Most of these assistants wound up dead, which suited Vicious just fine. Then they had, quite simply, stopped giving him mission and gone on and on about the general will of the clan, how they were the mighty dragon and he the meagre snake...he'd kept quiet, stared blankly but the effort not to cut them down there on then nearly drove him insane...when he and Spike had been so close...then the fools ordered Vicious to Titan, expecting him to die. They had sat, pompous and arrogant ordering him on "death missions" endlessly...they did not understand; only Spike could kill Vicious. They ordered the assassination of Spike's mentor, knowing it would draw their last hope out of hiding, to save them. The fools...

Vicious sat, eyes closed. _Julia, Spike...please...please tell me it's all just a dream..._

_I'm gonna carry that weight a long time..._


	2. Chapter 2

Vicious-The Fall From Heaven

Vicious awoke, sweating...the bed damp despite the frigidity of the room in general. Breathing hard, taking a long time to fight the urge to whisper Her name as he had done long ago. There was no love...no warmth in the desire, or indeed for Her in general but yet Vicious craved her softness, her warmth, her love and all the emotions she had helped him nearly feel. _Julia..._

_A music box small echoes a haunting tune...Julia's smile, Spike's grinning...gunshots...sex...death, the dream ends the same...Spike insists on going alone and is gunned down...I always try stop him...then he limps to Julia's place, a gentle shell instead his raging spirit, dead..._

"I watched you die...Yet. You. Live."

Vicious spoke out loud, unable to bottle his frustration any further...

In his memory Spike had succumbed to his wounds. Vicious had watched, for the first time saddened, as Spike had simply stopped fighting death and accepted it...had seen everything slowly stop as Spike bled away. Yet a few days later Spike was alive and well, Vicious couldn't ever know for sure which of them was truly dreaming. They met a day or so later, nothing was as it was. Spike had seemed numb, dozy, drugged, unresponsive and devoid of passion...the list went on and on and on. Vicious saw how Julia doted on Spike, found him to be interesting and slowly coaxed the new Spike out-he hated her for interfering like that, the Spike she loved was not the Spike Vicious knew...or had known. Vicious had taken Spike aside and whispered soft, yet hard and threatening. On the same day, Julia had given Vicious a music box.

"Spike...be careful when you're with that woman."

It was like watching a dream, a dream Vicious couldn't wake up from and he hated it. A black, icy hatred that no source of warmth could hope to thaw, watching Spike become a beast without fangs with no explanation to how he was still alive other than he simply was. Everyone-the Elders, Shin, Linn, Annie-considered Spike to be dead, it was as though they could not see him when he was in a room, as though Spike were a ghost or the remnant of some dream. Mou was the only person other than Vicious and Julia who insisted Spike was alive and that he could sense it. Yet when Vicious saw Spike, he saw a man who could not be described as alive-pale, different coloured eyes, unkempt hair and Spike could only be described to be still here, as though his soul had simply refused to move on. Spike's eyes were a source of fascination for most, he claimed they gave him foresight and hindsight-he could see the future and the past, Julia once told Vicious that staring into Spike's eyes was like watching a dream. Vicious had gone at once, and done the same thing, yet he felt nothing. Spike had smiled then, a shadow of his old smile, and spoke softly.

"You won't see anything Vicious, your past and mine is irrelevant to you, the future does not concern you...your one of the few people who are truly in the now...but looking upon you Vicious, sometimes I pity you."

"You're the one that needs the pity Spike; you're a beast who's lost his fangs."

"You're the snake, Vicious, with fangs of poison-sooner or later you bring death to us all."

"I've kept you alive."

"You satisfied yourself with a hundred lesser men. I was only safe with you because I offered you other, more numerous prey."

"You're no better Spike; your bullets would have ripped me to shreds like claws if we hadn't made our alliance...or is it a friendship..."

"Well we've lived this far...never forget Vicious, only you may kill me. Only I may kill you."

A lot of people thought that Vicious was a red eye addict; he had used it in the past. It had no effect on him, despite the fact it did with everyone else in the syndicate who used it. The Syndicate medical staff had told him in no uncertain terms he was truly a freak. Vicious response times were inhumanly high, to a similar degree to red eye users. Similar to Spike's, except that his were partly due to an eye implant. It was this kind of thing that convinced Vicious long ago he was simply a born killer-freakish reaction times, skill but then all this fused with the anger made him something inhuman. Not that Vicious cared. There was no explanation, it was just the way the universe at large seemed to have envisioned him, and thus he was. After the first killing spree, Vicious was released from prison when the syndicate decided that such talent should not go to waste. At last Vicious had a purpose, but it hadn't been enough and he wanted more and more...to consume the Red Dragon like a malignant cancer and feast upon it until he emerged as the snake at the heart of it all, the leader of the clan.

Vicious, in his despair, had been tempted many times to suicide. The music box bomb Julia had given him had tempted him during the War of Titan especially. Vicious new instantly, from the sound of the mechanical workings that it was an explosive. Julia either meant to kill him, or had simply given him the means to do it himself. It played the haunting tune that bore her name; countless times Vicious thought about her and played the box, only stopping it at the very last second to avoid the explosion. Again and again...until the day a naive young solider Gren had commented on it, Vicious had given up that chance of death and passed it on to another, death was the only thing in this world Vicious could give. Gren would want death after Vicious real business on Titan became apparent; he was not the hero Gren had believed in. Indeed Vicious, in an act of spite, had framed Gren for his own crimes in the hope that Gren might be free of his delusions about death, honour and comrades. The stink of death, the screams of death merely exposed what Vicious knew to be. You die sooner, you die later-life remains a fragile farce. Vicious himself had found Bloodlust Rubies, massive mining stockpiles, which were used as a base ingredient for Red Eye.

The greedy Elders commended him, forcing smiles and congratulatory tones at a job well done despite their sincere hope he would die on that god forsaken rock. Secretly Vicious wished he'd died, but death could only come at worthy foes hand. The Red Dragon Syndicate had eaten the planet-mined its resources and exploited its people with rackets from gambling, prostitution, slavery and funding corrupt regimes. The money from Red Eye had rebuilt Titan, but it was not built to realise the veterans or the dead's hope for a better world, it was built as shining metropolis of crime and illicit pleasures, truly a gem in the Red Dragon's empire, that no law or decent person would go near. A job well done, Vicious smirked at the phrase in the darkness, remembering the defeated look of the girls of the planet as they became dancers and prostitutes, the suicides of their father's and the blood feuds led by their brothers. The planet was stretched taut with the anguished cry of thousands of rapes and murders, of addicts with a chorus of haughty laughs from the fat politicians and bosses who reaped the rewards. Millions of lives ruined or gone, the galaxy was a better place to live.

Suddenly leaping up, grabbing his katana Vicious walked quickly towards the hanger section. Vicious kept to the shadows, not wanting to draw attention, a sudden realisation hitting him. Reaching his ship he keyed the computer, the ship _slowly _hummed to life as the engines began to flare and whir as though Vicious's very purpose had passed on into them. The computer responded as it always did.

**Pilot Id...Vicious.**

**You may not take off until you have chosen a Red Dragon Syndicate job and destination. Currently listed are:**

**[Earth] [Titan]-**

Vicious didn't allow the computer to finish the listing, he keyed Titan as soon as it appeared because something drew him towards the planet, and a mission was as good a reason to visit it as any, though something else spurred him on, though he couldn't quite remember what.

**Titan selected...mission parameters and details will be listed only upon on entering hyperspace.**

Vicious headed towards the gate, grin slowly playing upon his features. Then he realised, Vicious always got the feeling when Julia or Spike were near, could always manage to intercept transmissions and clues as to where they might be found. This visit to Titan, he thought, might be far more eventful than I ever envisioned...he gripped his katana. _You'd better not let me down Spike..._


	3. Chapter 3

Vicious-And Into Underworld

Coming out of hyperspace, the days of tedium finally ending, Vicious let out a hissing, angry sigh that sounded akin to an airlock. He hated travelling through Space, the sterile boredom. The Only entertainment he'd had for the whole trip was a threatening transmission from the Van. They had sat, pompous as always, lecturing on how bad he'd been for taking a mission without their knowledge or assent. As soon as they had cut the transmission, Vicious smiled a bloodthirsty smile while his eyes remained cold, staring at the screen where the Van had been previously. They would all die, soon enough. Their so called "wrath" did not concern him, the Van were incapable of such a pure emotion of battle and vengeance, instead they would spout their dusty laws and tomes which they relied upon to maintain their power. Vicious viewed them as a great tragedy an...abomination-they had all once been the finest warriors of their day, had risen to fame and power like an unholy trinity. Then they had grown old, become decrepit, just a faded motion picture long passed any real purpose or use. The last useful thing they had done is authorise and fully pay for the forging of Vicious's sword long ago, ironic that they had even then been forging their own doom.

Vicious looked out of the view port, memories of battle for Titan's space lanes, what was left of the promises of glory and memory now? The rotting hulls of capital warships and fighters, drifting like an asteroid belt for miles near the planet, the Red Dragon had began salvaging them for tech and ore, like digging up the dead to feed the living. Vicious was quite clear in his mind in this issue, the graves of the dead must be honoured. It sickened him that those that had fallen honourably in battle were being defiled and degraded for mere profit. Graves were, in Vicious's mind, like a womb of stone where one could finally rest in this world, thus in resting one could finally awaken in the next. Did the thousands of dead men and women, still strapped in their seats and frozen trouble him? No, the dead hands of ghosts could do nothing to strong willed living. Should they appear, Vicious would oblige in returning them to Hell.

Finally clearing the graveyard, Titan (unofficially renamed Olympus) finally crawled into view as Vicious saw the rebuilt planet, shocked and for the first time in many years uneasy. It was, from this far off view, like a bright shining metropolis in the darkness of space. The lights and technology shining through the planet's atmosphere, becoming buildings as Vicious drew ever closer-Casinos, Brothels, Banks, Hotels and various advertisements in bright neon, big screens and constant noise that penetrated even the ship's hull. The planet reminded Vicious of the ancient science of the blast furnaces on Earth-the best rose to the top, a river of slag formed at the bottom. Vicious guessed the almost legitimate vice on display here and now only served to hide the true river of sludge that ran through the planet like a malignant tumour. The businessmen or politicians hung at the high class brothels with the real beautiful women for a price, who on better planets would be models or perhaps successful assassins, who hung on their arms with perfumed hair, laughter and glittering lustful eyes. Did they know that around in the back alley was a dead eyed young girl, beaten up, scarred-pretty, alone and preyed on? Vicious knew they knew but they just didn't care. Then again, neither did Vicious...yet he disliked the fat men living off the thin, it was unnatural. Vicious liked nothing better than to cut down the fat men.

Stepping out of his ship for the first time, Vicious's stomach instantly threatened him as the stench filled his nostrils. A warrior does not give into such a base impulse, Vicious chided himself. Walking slowly, almost at a stroll towards the Port Master who stood waiting for him-a gaunt, greasy haired man with crooked yellowing teeth who shifted nervously as Vicious approached. Vicious didn't give the man time to speak or introduced himself. He pointed to the Red Dragon Insignia upon his ship.

"You know that mark, if anyone or anything touches my ship...you tell me or you get off world before I come back to take my revenge."

The man gulped and nodded. Vicious saw the man shudder as he gave him a very cold smile, the grin of Death itself. Leaving the man without giving him so much as a thought, Vicious walked towards his destination. It was a slow, steady walk specifically designed to not draw attention to himself, which was easy considering his attire and katana at his side. Yet most people just walked past him as though he wasn't there, the art of fading into the background was always a favourite of Vicious's-it confirmed just how stupid and unaware most so called living people were. Everywhere were lights, sounds and general chaos-advertisements blaring for every possible vice one could call to mind. Yet here, down at the bottom, underneath the lights and the tall buildings was a dirt ally, burning barrels and tramps, whores too drugged up to even know where they were or who they were with and dead bodies just lying in the street-it was almost the Titan Vicious remembered. A few of the Ally's more prominent thugs gave him threatening stares, Vicious knew that they would strike. The smarter ones took one look at Vicious's dress and left him alone; they let the dumber ones get killed off. Vicious liked their philosophy. However, the men that were about to attack him still would not strike yet, and something else had drawn his eye. It was a ship and one he recognised, _The Blue Blues_-Gren's ship was still recognisable. It had been cannibalised nearly beyond recognition, but nobody had the time it seemed to melt down the chassis or rip out the computer-it was probably rigged with explosives given the reputation of Calisto's inhabitants. Just as the first of the thugs were about Vicious turned with his Katana drawn.

"The first of you to tell me what happened to the pilot of this Ship lives."

The Four Thugs stared dumbly at the speed of Vicious turn and draw, eyeing the Katana and undoubtedly questioning their wisdom in attempting to rob him. Vicious nearly smiled as he could almost smell the icy fear that reeked from them, could nearly hear their hearts hammering. It was too late for their regrets now, unless one spoke up they would all die. One of the men suddenly decided talking was his best bet-Vicious had no intention of sparring anyone.

"The Pilot was dead, rumour had it that it was like what they called a "sex change" back in the day...man like a woman, with a hefty bounty," he looked at Vicious hopefully, the knife in the man's hand shook visibly, he went pale at the stare he received in return, along with a ghastly smile.

"Thank you."

The men seemed paralysed, Vicious moved quicker than they thought possible, the nearest two suddenly having deep, oozing gashes across them, hitting various vital organs with chilling accuracy. They fell quietly; the dirt beneath them drank their blood. The third ran, Vicious threw a knife into the man's artery, spraying blood for all to see. The man who had spoken up seemed to go into shock, dropped his weapons and fell backwards, cowering.

"You said you'd let me live...you said, you said-"

"Live you shall, a little longer than the others. Didn't you know...talkers get the slowest deaths of all."

Vicious stabbed the man's stomach, and both his thighs, savouring the man's screams. It was pitiful, he was crying. With disgust Vicious turned leaving the man to his fate, listening to the man's cries and the silent response, nobody came to help him. Walking away, to where he needed to be and to where a contact should be waiting for him. The destination was of course not one of the swanky brothels; instead it was a small bar which offered extras to anyone willing to pay. What happened in the place stayed in the place, which suited Vicious just fine. The first major step of his grand plan was about to begin, let all that would seek to stop him know that their end was near.

_Spike...you should have been with me on this one._


	4. Chapter 4

Vicious-Of Men and Ghosts

Vicious carried on walking, without a shiver or even a sign of acknowledging the cold which would have claimed an ordinary man by now. Vicious however was far from ordinary and hypothermia was of no concern at all for Vicious, or consequence...if Vicious died then he died. A chilly fog had rolled in along with the dusk, the meanest light slowly retreating until all succumbed to darkness. Anyone unfamiliar with the Planet would no doubt get lost in its maze of streets, ghettos and tower blocks which in themselves seemed as sterile and cold as the snow which blanketed the planet, glittering cruelly under the streetlights as though goading Vicious into stopping for a rest, maybe a permanent one for his weary soul. Vicious dismissed the seemingly good natured invitation; death would not claim him tonight. Death could not claim him while he stalked the streets thirsting for blood or some sign that he was actually nearing his destination.

As though Heaven itself answered its prodigal son a relevant sign of neon finally directed Vicious to the correct street and given the nature of the Planet-neon lit everywhere-often finding the correct sign was like searching for a sign that might as well not have existed at all. With perseverance and a conquering will, neither the weather nor his surroundings ever defeated him. Suddenly his cell phone rang, it made Vicious jump because he had forgot that he was evening carrying one. Vicious never answered by voice, only by silence as a safety precaution, allowing whoever was ringing to say what they had to say before hanging up. Only if absolutely necessary did Vicious use the phone to call, it wasn't as though Vicious had a cell to be sociable. The voice on the other end chilled Vicious to the bones before a blood thirsty smile distorted his ghostly features.

"Vicious."

"I had no idea you could hack my number so easily, Spike."

"Who said it was me?"

"Why are you calling...are you inviting me to come and kill you, I'm more than happy to oblige the last request of such a dear old friend."

Vicious allowed a hissing malice to creep into his voice with the last three words, he imagined Spike being taken aback a little before renewing his confidence.

"Hardly Vicious, I've just rung out of concern someone else will kill you instead of me. Your about to be set up, very professionally I might add."

"Assassins...how many?"

"Four heavily armed. Your contact has already been taken hostage."

"You know this warning changes nothing Spike."

"Don't bother trying to trace this Vicious. You never know, I might be closer than you think."

"Regardless, I'll bid you farewell until we meet again."

"I do love the feeling of impending death whenever our paths cross. Spike out."

Vicious stood a moment, unsure of quite what to do; it did not seem right to suddenly have Spike calling like this, like Spike had rung him so long ago, offering warnings and help if Vicious happened to be in any real trouble. Vicious found himself replaying what Spike had said over and over again...very professionally. Suddenly it struck Vicious, like a lightning bolt of sudden, dawning comprehension which was both shocking and terrible, more so to Vicious. It was nearly unspeakable, his own clan were going to murder him tonight...had they even made an allegiance with someone else? This changed the whole dynamic of the mission, was that a set up? Or was this an independent operation? Vicious heard a click, snapped out of his deep thought by the flick of a zippo lighter. Far off, but enough in the quiet street, a blonde haired women with dark, tight fitting trousers and a warm looking jacket, she was strange as though she and only she were truly real. She turned, Vicious's heart nearly stopped in his chest, their eyes met for just a moment-a pain filled, lingering moment. There was a sudden clap of thunder, a car flew past blaring its horn as Vicious tried to follow her. Then she was gone.

"Julia!"

Vicious voice shouted urgently, running as fast as he could, like a beast possessed. The ally seemed to wind forever, stinking steam rose from the drains under Vicious, the stinking cess smoke filled the ally with foul smelling, lingering mist. Turning a corner Vicious stopped dead, a young girl lay there still moving but obviously very hurt, shivering and cold. A victim of robbery, rape perhaps, usually Vicious if he was feeling merciful might have finished her off. Yet the mercy he felt now wasn't his own, his heartless nature had been tempered by the sight of Julia, so Vicious simply stood, unsure of what to do. Julia's voice echoed from long ago _even now, you could do so much good. _The girls dark eyes seemed to focus, focus and become afraid. Normally Vicious would have loved that fear, milked it for all its worth, the girl spoke first, whispering up defiantly.

"If you're going to rape me mister then get the hell on with it, it's not like I can stop you, or leave me to die your choice."

Vicious kept his face blank, an emotionless white slate. When he spoke the words came slowly and deliberately, as though they were taking an immense amount of thought and effort for Vicious to say without vomiting.

"I have...no intention of taking advantage of you, your hurt. I know a safe place you can rest and tend to your wounds."

The girl seemed to fire up hearing this and drew a holdout pistol, very small, from the inside of her coat. Vicious would have killed her for that normally, but the girl intrigued him too much at this point to dispose of just yet. Instead he kept perfectly still, a frightened girl was bound to be jumpy.

"The prince charming act won't rub with me mister, just going to take me back and take care of me right? Here's the news, men aren't like that here on Titan, and so I'm not falling for it. Maybe I'll just take those expensive looking clothes of yours and sell them, a girl has to have her fix you know..."

The girl trailed off as though seriously considering the idea, she spoke with a street wise mockery which was beginning to make Vicious seethe, despite his recent slight change of heart. Tired of the game, he drew his katana, faster than the girl could react and sliced the pathetic weapon neatly in two. The girl was once again filled with terror, gasping as she realised she had toyed with someone who certainly wasn't the usual down on his luck bum. Vicious lifted the girl by the throat, pinning her harshly against the wall as the girl began to kick and scream in terror. Vicious whispered two words in her ear, the struggling suddenly stopped as an icier, terrible fear gripped the girl and she began to cry.

"The...the Red Dragon Syndicate...but...but I havn't upset anybody RICH enough to hire a syndicate assassin...i don't owe enough money to the dealers for them to send you...please...please don't kill me...I'll do anything, just tell me what the price on my head is!"

The panic the two words gave her did give Vicious some pleasure; he did not indulge it this time.

"I'm not here for you. Are you coming or freezing?"

The stared a moment longer, gathered herself together and finally, slowly stood wavering on her feet. Vicious could tell as soon as she stood the girl was high class stuff-slum girls tended to either be scared or deformed due to the dangerous conditions and radioactivity in the area. Guess that's my fault too, Vicious thought snidely, since I let off the bomb.

Vicious's memories once ran through his mind like the ghosts of dead men still screaming, even now so many years later. It was a day that had burned itself into Vicious's mind, burned there by explosions, the inferno even after and the smell of charred flesh. Every soldier Vicious had known, every man he had ever commanded and known had been blown away that day upon the orders of a traitor and of course, that man was him-a Lieutenant in the Titan National army. The enemy had been the Free Titan Liberation Army-a well equipped group of rebels backed by crime and dissatisfied, power hungry business man. The former Titan government had ordered Vicious's Platoon to hold there positions and advance. As the days wore on, each side directed more and more men and supplies into the area, only to find a costly stalemate. This was the moment in which they were all of them, thousands upon thousands of men, betrayed.

The deal had been arranged long before, Vicious was to aid the FTLA in gaining victory on Titan to ensure the Red Dragon could move in and dominate the Planet. To do this they had to both bankrupt the current government and cripple there ability to fight. The government had taken the bait, a huge number of troops and weapons piled in. The FTLA however had procured an ancient weapon, a prototype sold at auction which the FTLA were convinced would win the war, the problem was the government had captured it and were now threatening its use. Vicious had, in that meeting a flash of almost divine will and volunteered his plan. The FTLA and the Red Dragon accepted, so the battle came to ahead. Gren, the Platoon's radio and communications expert and junior officer, had been knocked out by Vicious during the fighting. Using his expert voice mimicking skills, Vicious called in the airstrike coded NOMERCY. Fleeing into the fortified bunker, abandoning his post and his men, locking the doors and jamming them, running until final the blast doors had slid shut. A huge flash had burned like a Sun, and a blast wave left nothing. A mushroom cloud, a towering obelisk had loomed over the blast site as a memorial to Vicious's crime. In this act Vicious destroyed his own men, the Titan government and much of the FTLA...the Red Dragon had cleaned up any remnants, explaining the situation to FTLA High Command. Gren of course took the blame-as Vicious testified to his Vicious and psychotic nature (Vicious had actually described himself last time anyone attempted to analyse him) and nobody had thought it even remotely unfair that Gren had been sent for drugs testing, weapon testing and every form of technically illegal testing and torment anyone could think up. Last Vicious heard, the scientists had decided Gren would look far more desirable if he had breasts, so they'd given him some...

That was how Vicious had betrayed them all, for all must die if he is to live.

"Hey, hey...you awake in there?"

Vicious was dragged out of the past by the girl's voice; the uncultured slum drawl had become softer, cleaner. That meant the girl had some questions to answer, not yet though, first they had to get to the safe house.

"Come on, there's a bar nearby, a Red Dragon safe house."

Without further word he walked, the girl hurrying along behind his long strides, slipping a little in the snow. In another time Vicious would have found it funny. Now he didn't, it was slowing him down. He did not snap at her however, he kept his patience and before long they reached the safe house-the front of which was a smashed up abandoned bar, anybody who looked into the places history would have known it was strange, owned yet left derelict.

Vicious flashed a metal seal at the eye hole at the door and it slid open, the filthy floor beneath them moved to reveal a staircase. Despite his criticism of the Elders, they knew how to keep the clan members safe. The girl was smart, instantly adding up that Vicious had not been bluffing when he'd stated his syndicate allegiance, she kept quiet allowing him to lead the way. Vicious closed the entrance and locked the floor from the inside, just in case anyone thought they were going to betray him here and now. Still, Vicious couldn't escape the feeling that there was danger below.

"Stay close to me."


End file.
